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His Charity Patient 



An Original Play in One Act 

BY 

REED ROBINSON 

San Diego, California 
(All Rights Reserved) 



Copyrighted June, 1914, by Reed Robinson. 



©CID 37824 






Published by 

KEELER & GILLRUP 

331 F Street, 

SAN- DIEGO, CAL. 



First Edition Fifty Copies. 



DRAMATIS PERSONAE 

Dr. Robert Lockhard — A young physician. 

Helen — His wife. 

Mrs. Milstead — A widowed mother. 



SCENE — Waiting room of Dr. Lockhard' s residence office. Time, 3 A, M, 



IT. E. C. — Double door with portieres; drop light overhead; opening onto interior residence hall. 

E. U. E. — Door opening onto outer hall. 

Open Stage — Table desk, scattered with books, magazines, medical papers; desk telephone; 

chair beside table to right, facing front. Behind table, mantle, with clock. 
Prompt Stage — Plain table with drop light. 
P. R. C. — Medicine wall — cabinet. 



Curtain discovers semi-dark stage, drop lights on over portierres and treating table. 
Curtain followed by clock striking three. On third stroke enter Helen tl. E. C. dressed in 
charming negligee, hair slightly tousled. Stands momentarily in front of curtains with two 
hands drawing them together behind her. Raises arms, uplifted sleeves falling back from, 
elbow, disclosing contour of arms; yawns sleepily and bends hands to head in business of 
fixing back hair. Switches light to full stage; glances at clock. 

HELEN (yawning; then long sigh) — Three o'clock and Bob still out at that horrid old 
banquet. Oh, well, he's worked hard building up his practice foi; five years without a real' 
vacation, poor lad. Practically bis only fun has been the annual dinner with his college 
classmates, which he's taking in tonight. (Crosses L. L. to telephone table; stands idly 
leafing magazines as she speaks, half facing front.) Funny thing. Bob is not a drinking 
man. But once a year, at this dinner, he gets completely, gloriously and deliberately 
"soused," as he calls It. (Brief pause.) You know (abruptly said and turning impulsively 
toward audience as though taking them into her confidence), I think lots of men drink, not 
because they like it. but because they think it is up to them to do it. Man is prone to do 
what is expected of him. A certain amount of drinking seems to be one of the things 
expected of a man. So (with a careless shrug) he drinks to show he can do it and caiTy his 
nyuor like a gentleman. Trouble with most men seems to be that a certain amount of drink- 
ing has no limit. Another queer thing about a man, I have noticed. Is that he is usually 
awfully glad the morning after that he missed the night before. Things seem different in 
the cold, gray drawn. And — (phone rings; turns to take it up) Now I wonder who that 
can be at this time of night? Hello? Dr. Lockhard's bouse. No, the doctor is not here. 
Mrs. Lockhard speaking. Oh, yes, Mrs. Milstead. How is the baby? (Listens) Pneumonia 
is an awful thing. (Listens) Convulsions! Heavens, that is dreadful! I expect the doctor 
any minute. You had better come over right away. Get somebody to stay with the baby. 
Mrs. Sweeney, your neighbor? All right, then, you'll come over right away? Good-bye. 

(Hangs up receiver, places phone on table; seats herself. As she starts talking clasps 
hands on table in front of her.) 

HELEN — Now there's an instance of the doctor's kindness. He has been treating that 
baby for weeks for nothing. The mother is a widow and a scrubwoman, and the poor little 
child is a sickly thing. A scrubwoman hardly earns enough to keep body and soul together and 
her baby alive. She cannot afford doctor's bills, and It usually depends on the doctor's kind- 
ness whether the babies live or die. Thank God, Bob's heart's right. (Glances at clock.) 
The old dear, he ought to be here now. 

(Thus of closing door heard off stage. Helen rises quickly.) 

HELEN— There! He's coming! 

(Bob heard off stage singing typical college song in manner to Indicate he has been 
drinking. Enters R. U. E. Silk hat on back of head, hair tousled, cravat slightly awry, 
walking stick carelessly thrust under left arm. Right glove in hand, tugging at left glove! 
Stands just inside door, weaving slihtly back and forth.) 

BOB— Hello, lovebird? I'm back again. Your laddie is some soused. Made three trips up 
front steps gettin' this package inside. Some drunk, some package, and, believe me, some 
dinner. (Sighs gruntingly.) By jove, I'm glad to get home. Any calls? But ne' mind. 
Thank God, nol)'dy 'specs me to be doctor 'til t'mfflfrah. 



HELEN — Well, Buddie, you talk as though you had a good time. 

(Bob places hat and gloves on chair, throwing coat over another, trying to stand stick 
against wall. Stick falls down and he swears mutteringly at it as he turns to answer.) 

BOB (expansively) — Goo' time! (Nods head) Y'r perfec'ly good an' right, m'dear. 
(Advancing toward center stage as he talks. Helen moves to meet him.) 

BOB — Shay, Helen, I mus' tell you goo' one on ole Beany Sewell. We came home same 
taxicab. When we got to his house I helped him up steps. (Laughs.) I'm pretty full, but 
Beany was loaded. He goes up to his front door and tries t' unlatch it. Couldn' do it. 
(Laughs.) I looked t' see wha' was s'matter, an' th' darn ole fool was tryin' t' unlatch his 
front door with a cigar! (Laughs.) I says to him, "Don't you know. Beany, ole man, you 
can't unlatch y'r door with a cigar? He held up the cigar (laughs), looked at It an' looked 
at me, an' wha' d'you think he said. (Chuckles to himself.) He said, "My God, Bob, I've 
smoked my latchkey!" It's firs' time he's been as drunk as that since 

(Helen comes close to Bob and takes lapels of dress coat in either band, looking up into 
his face. Business by Helen of struggling between desire to laugh and be seriou as she 
recalls Mrs. Milstead's call.) 

HELEN — That's awfully funny. Bob, and just like Beany. You had a call just a 
moment ago. 

(Bob starts quickly and then crosses, right, to medicine cabinet.) 

BOB— Call, huh? Well, I need a drink. Who was it? 

(Opens cabinet, takes out bottle and glass. Pours drink while Helen is talking.) 

HELEN — Yes, that Mrs. Milstead 'phoned. Said the baby's cold Is worse and she 
thought it had pneumonia. Said it had convulsions and she wanted to see you very ranch. 
She told rae she was coming right over. 

(Bob faces front, holding filled glass in one hand, bottle in other, waving them while 
talking, looks dejectedly at audience with disgusted expression.) 

BOB — Now, wha' d' you know about that? All year, I work like a flog; on the job every 
mi lute, an' th' one time In the year when I take a night off — blooie! blooie! I get a mid- 
night call to disturb peace of min'. And, worse of all, from a charity fiatient. Damn!! 

HELEN — But, dear, Mrs. Milstead said the baby was frightfully in and that she was 
coming right over. She'll be here any moment. 

(Thud of closing door heard off stage.) 

HELEN — That must be she now. Yes, here she is. 

(Enter Mrs. Milstead R. U. B., dressed in- faded black skirt, old shoes, shawl over head, 
patched kitchen apron. Advances hurriedly toward doctor, outstretched hands.) 

MRS. MILSTEAD— Oh, doctor, doctor, the baby's took a bad turn for the worse. Its got 
convulsions something awful. I think it's pneumonia. You told me if I needed it to come 
to you for medicine. Won't you give me some medicine, quick? 

(At the word "medicine" Lockhard straightens, throws back shoulders and seems to don, 
as though it were a garment, the professional manner of a physician. Turns toward Mrs. M. 
and says, gravely:) 

BOB — Did you give the baby anything to eat tonight except what I told you it might 
have ? 

MRS. M.— Why, doctor, all I gave it was a little piece of tender cabbage. I didn't think 
that would hurt it. And the poor dear was crying so hard. 

(Bob facing front, throws out hands in gesture of despair.) 

BOB— Sick baby! She feeds it cabbage! Can you beat that? 

(Turning to woman and speaking severely, in a very professional manner.) 

BOB — Very well, my good woman, I will prepare some medicine for the baby at once 
which wall be just the thing for it. Don't worry. The child has a bad attack of colic. 

(Turns to medicine cabinet, takes graduated glass and small prescription in left hand, 
large medicine bottle in right. Places prescription bottle on table. Then holds graduated 
glass to light a'nd carefully pours dose. This done, he places large medicine bottle on table 
under drop light, with poison label conspicuously displayed to audience. Then he turns dose 
from graduated glass into small prescription bottle, writes label and pastes on bottle, which he 
hands to woman.) 



BOB — There, that will fix the baby tonight. Give it a spoonful as soou as yon get 
home, another in half an hour, another in an hour as per directions. If the baby sleeps, let 
it go. Give it no more medicine until it awakes. Now, hurry along and look after the kiddie. 

MRS. M. — Oh, thank you, thank you. thank you, doctor. I'll be g-^ing now. (Turus and 
starts toward door. Stops at door and half turns.) Oh, than you, doctor; how can I ever 
repay you? 

BOB — By not trying to. Hurry along now. 

(Exit widow, R. U. B.) 

(Bob turns to wife. Places his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her eyes.) 

BOB — There, dear, is a typical city tenement baby ease. That kid is awfully sick. It 
will probably live through this illness, but chances are the mother will never raise it. By 
jove, little woman, when one stops to think of the surroundings in which some babies are born 
and through which they must live as children, it seems wonderful so many survive. Take 
this poor little kiddie. Father dead, mother poor, has to work for a living. Goes out during 
the day and scrubs and scrubs, and gives up lier precious bodily strength to make a day's 
wage to live on. leaving that poor child alone most of the time. That strength the mother 
uses up in working she should be husbanding at home to give to her baby. It does seem as 
though there is something wrong with the times when we find so many, many cases of 
mothers being forced to do that same thing. Society pays the price by turning out a lot of 
weakling children who grow into weakling men and women. Oh, well (removes hands from 
wife's shoulders, gives wide sweep upward with outspread arms and then drops hands quickly 
tn sides, slapping thighs. Turn, facing front), mat be it can't be helped. Waht is, is, and 
what must be, must be. 

(Remains for brief instant as in brown study. Starts suddenly. Speaks abruptly and 
informatively to audience as though seized with a brilliant idea.) 

BOB — I need another drink. 

(Helen crosses L. L. C. to point back of table, open stage. Bob crosses right to cabinet, 
takes glass and bottle therefrom. Carefully pours himself a drink, replacing bottle in cabinet. 
Regards glass of liquor appreciatively, holding it up between him and audience, then tosses it 
off. Turns toward table, smacking lips, lowering glass and followin it with his eyes.) 

BOB— Ah, pretty ood stuff, that. 

(Starts carefully to place glass on table in line with medicine bottle. His eyes following 
the glass come in contact with the bottle of poison on the table. At this point he discovers 
medicine bottle contains poison. Drops glass on floor and starts forward, clutching table on 
either edge. Stares at audience horror-struck. Passes hand across eyes in bewildered man- 
ner, as though brushing away impediment to his sight. Looks again at bottle. ) 

BOB (ejaculating in piercing whisper) — Poison! Heaven help me! 

(Clutchin at heart with right hand, leaning heavily on table with left, looking at audience 
with stricken face.) 

(Helen, realizing something is wrong, leans toward Bob with yearning gesture.) 

HELEN (in deeply concerned tone) — Bob, what's the matter? 

(Bob silently points to bottle. Helen steps forward, looks at it and gasps, as she 
realizes significance of the label, and thinks of the baby. Tableau. Helen, hands at breast, 
looks at Bob with her soul in her eyes. Bob faces audience with stricken look. Both drive 
home with business the horror of discovery Bob has given the widow wrong medicine for her 
child, which, instead of curing, will kill it. Bob turns to wife finally, speaking in sepulchral 
tone. ) 

BOB — My God, Helen, I'm a murderer! I gave that woman poison for her baby's medi- 
cine! I have killed that child! That means I'm a murderer! 

(Helen shrinks as though struck in face.) 

HELEN — Oh, Bob! (Brief pause for picture. Helen backed against right side of table, 
resting against it as though for support, both hands grasping edge behind her. Telephone 
rings. Both start as though suddenly frightened. Bob turns, raises clenched right hand in 
front of him.) 

BOB (in startled, piercing whisper) — My God, who's that? 

(Helen turns to 'phone; picks it up and answers it.) 

HELEN— Yes, this is Dr. Lockhard's house. The police station! Hold the wire. I'll see. 

(Helen turns toward Bob, placing left hand over mouthpiece, holding 'phone from her 
in left.) 



ITELEN — Rob, it's the police station! Tliey want to know if yon are here. What shall 
1 tell them? 

BOB — The police! Asking for Dr. Lockharil, and me a murderer! 

(Throws left hand outward toward Helen; places clenched right at forehead.) 

BOB— Let me think. (Picture.) 

(Thud of outer door heard off stage.) 

BOB (starting)— Who's that? 

(Enter Mrs. Milstead R. U. E. Shawl half off shoulders, hair streaming. Runs toward 
doctor with hands clasped to breast.) 

iSIRS. MILSTEAD — Doctor, doctor, what shall I do? I dropped the bottle of medicine 
you gave me for the baby, and it broke. 

(Tableau.) 

BOB (relaxing) — Thank God! (Heaves large sigh. Draws himself erect, turns to wife 
in lordly manner.) 

BOB — Tell the police station Dr. Lockhard is here and asks what they want. 

HELEN (at 'phone) — Dr. Lockhard wants to know what you want. (Listens. Turns to 
Bob.) There's been a railroad wreck and you're wanted. 

BOB (assuming very professional air, to Helen) — Tell them I'm coming at once. (Im- 
periously.) Get my medicine bag!! 

(Starts toward coat and hat.) 

CURTAIN 



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